


Americana

by rauqthetommo



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1930s, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Eddie Kaspbrak, Choking, Dirty Talk, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Rimming, Slapping, Top Richie Tozier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 23:01:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21837019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rauqthetommo/pseuds/rauqthetommo
Summary: In the year 1939, Eddie runs into his childhood best friend at the bank while he’s out with his wife.They soon fall back into their old ways.Eddie can’t help it, it’s just what Richie does to him.An excerpt from this work:“Richie? Richie Tozier?” Eddie blinks, his mouth dry.He turns around, and sure fuck enough, it’s him. “Eddie Kaspbrak!” Richie says, face breaking out into a huge smile. “What a surprise!” Richie’s eyes fall on Myra, still hanging off of Eddie’s arm. “And hello,” He says, still fucking smiling. “Who’s this stunning creature?”“Myra Kaspbrak,” She shakes Richie’s hand. “Eddie’s wife.”“Well,” Richie kisses the back of Myra’s hand. “Never thought I’d meet the woman that could tie old Eddie down.” He’s practically charming Myra to death.“What are you doing here?” Eddie asks, taking Richie’s presence in. He’s wearing a plain gray suit, pants pressed flat and white shirt ironed crisp. He has his jacket thrown over his shoulder casually, showing off his patterned tie and striped suspenders.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 8
Kudos: 272





	Americana

“Richie? Richie Tozier?” Eddie blinks, his mouth dry. 

He turns around, and sure fuck enough, it’s him. “Eddie Kaspbrak!” Richie says, face breaking out into a huge smile. “What a surprise!” Richie’s eyes fall on Myra, still hanging off of Eddie’s arm. “And hello,” He says, still fucking smiling. “Who’s this stunning creature?”

“Myra Kaspbrak,” She shakes Richie’s hand. “Eddie’s wife.”

“Well,” Richie kisses the back of Myra’s hand. “Never thought I’d meet the woman that could tie old Eddie down.” He’s practically charming Myra to death. 

“What are you doing here?” Eddie asks, taking Richie’s presence in. He’s wearing a plain gray suit, pants pressed flat and white shirt ironed crisp. He has his jacket thrown over his shoulder casually, showing off his patterned tie and striped suspenders. 

“Well, I just stopped in to make a deposit, of course.” Richie says easily, stepping aside to let a woman with a child walk past him. 

“In town, I mean.” Eddie clarifies, running his hand down the length of his tie. He feels hot, like the temperature in the bank went up 30 degrees. 

“Well, I’ve just been asked to host a radio show. People are really coming around to this whole radio thing, Eds. I’m sure it’ll become as popular as the movies one day.” Richie winks. 

“An entertainer,” Myra smiles. “How very interesting!”

“What do you do, Eds?” Richie asks. 

“Uh—“ Eddie stumbles, still not quite able to grasp what’s happening. Not really understanding how Richie can be here, standing right in front of him at the bank, making small talk with his wife. 

“Eddie works at the stock market.” Myra supplies, patting Eddie’s arm. 

“Your profession suits you, Eds.” Richie winks again. 

“Thank you,” Eddie says quietly. 

“Would you like to join us for dinner tonight, Mr. Tozier?” Myra offers. 

_No!_ Eddie’s brain screams. He can’t have Richie over at his house, with his wife. That’s one great big fat sack of no. 

“I’d love to,” Richie answers, smiling. “If that’s alright with you, of course, Eddie.”

Eddie swallows hard as Richie and Myra continue to look at him. “Yes,” He says, softer than he’d meant to. He clears his throat and tries again. “Yes, of course. We’d love to have you.”

“That’s so nice of you two.” Richie smiles his big goofy smile, eyes lighting up behind his glasses. He checks his watch. “I actually do have to get going now,” He says. 

“We won’t keep you,” Myra smiles. 

Eddie watches as Myra gives Richie their address, watching Richie write it down on a pad of paper he’d produced from his pocket. His writes quickly, his handwriting tilting on the page. It looks just the same as it did all those years ago. Richie hasn’t changed a bit. “I’ll see you both tonight,” Richie shakes Myra’s hand again. “See you tonight, Eds.” Richie throws another wink his way, clapping Eddie on the shoulder before walking past them and straight out the door. 

“What a nice man,” Myra comments. 

Eddie barely hears her. Richie’s touch had warmed his entire body, the place where his hand had been still tingling. 

*** 

Eddie drinks more than he means to before Richie comes over, much to Myra’s dismay.

He’d meant to have a Manhattan and stop, but one had turned to two had turned to three had turned to— shit. He wasn’t even sure how many. Myra was partly to blame, however. She kept bringing him more drinks. 

When Eddie opens the door for Richie, Richie laughs. “Feeling ok, there, Eds?” He asks, placing his hands on Eddie’s shoulders. 

Eddie hadn’t realized he’d been swaying on his feet until Richie steadies him. “Just fine, thanks.” He looks up at Richie’s face, his glasses, his stubble, his curly hair. Of course Richie hadn’t shaved before he’d come over. Richie hates shaving, he used to tell Eddie that all the time. 

“Myra is in the dining room,” Eddie steps back to allow Richie into the house, shutting the door behind him. 

“This is a nice house, Eddie.” Richie looks around, shrugging out of his jacket. He’d shed his tie and suspenders for the night, going with a more casual look of a plain button down shirt and a black belt instead. He looks fucking incredible. 

“My mother left it to me,” Eddie rubs his eyes with his hands. Is the room spinning? “She passed.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that.” Richie says. 

“Hello, Mr. Tozier.” Myra smiles at Richie as she emerges from the dining room. 

“Just Richie is fine,” Richie says, leaning down to kiss her on the cheeks. 

“Eddie didn’t offer to take your jacket?” Myra places her hand on her chest. 

“We were just talking about his mother,” Richie hands his coat over to Myra. “We were just caught up in the chatter, I suppose.”

“The table is all set,” Myra says, hanging Richie’s jacket up in the hall closet. “Go have a seat and I’ll bring some drinks in in just a minute.”

*** 

Since their dining room table only seats 4, Richie is sitting next to Eddie no matter what. Eddie tries to focus on his meal while Richie and Myra talk, but it’s hard with Richie sitting right there. Eddie chews a mouthful of food slowly, thinking about the last time he’d seen Richie. 

They’d been 21, the year had been 1933. Prohibition had just ended and they’d gone to a bar to celebrate, throwing back drink after drink together. At the end of the night, they’d stumbled back to Richie’s together. Richie had invited him up, and Eddie had stayed the night with him. The next morning he was upset, telling Richie over and over again that the night before had been a mistake, that he wasn’t like that, that it could never happen again. Richie had gotten upset and they’d fought. Richie had tried desperately to get Eddie to stay, just stay with him, _please_ , but Eddie had left. That had been 6 years ago. 

“Isn’t that right, Eddie?” Myra asks, pulling Eddie out of his own thoughts. 

“Yes, of course.” Eddie answers immediately, although he had no idea what they’d been talking about. 

As Eddie grabs his water glass from the table and raises it to his lips, he feels a hand on his thigh. He nearly chokes, looking quickly over to Richie. Richie keeps his eyes on Myra, smiling and nodding along with her as she spoke, his hand resting softly on Eddie’s leg. Eddie knew that he should move, but he couldn’t. Richie’s hand warms his skin under the cloth of his pants, making him tingle all over. Myra is chattering away, laughing along and waving her hands as she spoke, clearly entranced by Richie. It isn’t surprising, seeing as Richie charms the pants off of everyone he meets. 

Richie’s hand travels further up his thigh, closer to his crotch. He shoots Eddie a small wink as Myra takes a sip of her wine. Eddie places his hand on top of Richie’s to push it off, trying to regain his composure, but he can’t. The second their skin is touching he can’t pull away. He laces their fingers together under the tablecloth, running his thumb over Richie’s knuckles. When he hazards a glance at Richie, he’s smiling. A big dumb grin spread from ear to ear. 

*** 

“Can you stay for dessert?” Myra asks as she collects the empty plates from the table. 

“No, unfortunately.” Richie stands, straightening his shirt. “I’ve got to heel-toe it back to mine.”

“I’ll walk you home,” Eddie says quickly, without thinking. 

“Sure thing, Eddie Spaghetti.” Richie smiles at him, shaking Myra’s hand. “Thank you for having me over, everything was wonderful.”

“I might be a little while,” Eddie kisses Myra’s cheek, holding his coat in his hands. “I’d like some time to catch up with Richie.”

“Of course, dear.” Myra waves him off. “Try not to wake me if you get in too late.”

*** 

Out on the street, the chilly night air bit at Eddie’s face. They walk back to Richie’s apartment in relative silence, heads down, hands stuffed into their pockets. 

Eddie breaks the silence first, clearing his throat before he speaks. “Are you married?”

“No,” Richie shakes his head. “Never did find anyone else.” He shrugs. “I’ve got my heart set on someone, though.”

Eddie frowns. “Maybe I could try to set you up with one of Myra’s friends.” Eddie offers. 

Richie just shakes his head again. “No need, Eds. I’ve got faith that he’ll come around.”

Eddie stops on the sidewalk and turns to face Richie. In the glow of the streetlight he looks beautiful, face bathed in the soft orange light. “Richie—“ 

“I never stopped thinking about you, Eds.” Richie says, reaching out to brush his fingers over Eddie’s wrists. “I wish you had stayed that night.”

“Richie, we can’t,” Eddie shakes his head, glancing around them. 

“We can,” Richie insists, taking Eddie’s face in his hands, pulling him closer. 

“No,” Eddie tries to sound more forceful. 

“I’ll stop,” Richie says softly, still cupping Eddie’s face. 

Eddie’s eyelids flutter, Richie’s breath warming his face. He smells like peppermint and some kind of spicy cologne. His hands are soft on Eddie’s cheeks. Eddie knows he should leave. He should walk away and never come back. But he can’t. His heart is beating so hard he’s sure Richie can hear it. How long had they been standing here like this? 10 seconds? 10 minutes? 10 years? It felt like a millisecond and a lifetime all at once. “Richie,” He says softly. It’s the only word his brain can form. 

“Yes, Eds?” Richie asks, his lips brushing over Eddie’s as he speaks. 

“Kiss me,” Eddie breathes out, allowing Richie to pull him in closer, their lips finally touching. 

Their kiss is brief, too brief, for fear of being seen out in the street. When they pull away they’re still alone, thank god, but Eddie can’t take his hands off of Richie’s arms. He’s worried if he lets him go he’ll fade away completely. “God, I’ve missed you.” Richie says quietly. “Come back to my place, Eddie, please.”

Eddie knows he can’t. He needs to leave Richie there in the street and never talk to him again. He’s not like that. He has a wife and a house and a job, he can’t just throw that all away for some schoolyard crush on his childhood best friend. He needs to leave, but he can’t. Instead he just nods, allowing Richie to lead him to his apartment. 

They’re immediately on each other the minute Richie closes the door. Eddie yanks Richie’s shirt open so fast the buttons pop off. “Jesus, Eds.” Richie starts to laugh, stopping himself as Eddie falls to his knees, hands moving quickly to unbuckle Richie’s belt and pull his pants down his legs. He presses kisses all over his lower stomach, glancing up to meet Richie’s eyes as he does so. 

Richie pants hard, wrapping his hand up in Eddie’s hair as Eddie mouths his erection through his underwear. Eddie moans around him, licking over the hard outline of his cock. Eddie tugs Richie’s boxers down quickly, allowing his cock to bounce free, immediately wrapping his lips around him. “Shit,” Richie mumbles quietly as Eddie slides down his length, pulling almost all the way off before swallowing him down again. 

“Mm,” Eddie says softly, pulling off and pressing kisses to Richie’s hip bone. “Where’s your bedroom?” He asks, looking around the small apartment, all the while stroking Richie’s dick with his hand. 

Richie laughs, nodding his head towards the kitchen. “Back there, through the dining area.”

Eddie gets to his feet, grabbing Richie’s wrist and pulling him through the kitchen and into the bedroom. Eddie swings the door shut behind them, allowing Richie to unbutton his shirt. Richie shoves his shirt backwards off of his shoulders, then pulls his undershirt up over his head. He catches Eddie face in his hands, pulling him up into another kiss. 

As they lick into each other’s mouths, Richie reaches down and palms Eddie dick through his pants. “We don’t have to do anything you aren’t comfortable with, Eddie.” Richie tells him, pulling back to look at his face. “We can stop any time you want, I won’t be upset.”

Eddie’s heart flips, warmth spreading over his body at Richie’s thoughtful words. He’s worried about him, even after all this time. Even after Eddie had left him, alone and crying, in his apartment the day he’d walked out. “I don’t want to stop,” Eddie shakes his head. 

“Are you sure?” Richie’s eyes glance to his bed for a second, unmade, with pillows and blankets thrown everywhere. 

Eddie nods, looping his hands around the back of Richie’s neck. He leans up and kisses him. “I want this, Rich.” 

Richie walks them over to his bed, sitting Eddie down and climbing on top of him. “You’re so beautiful, Eds. I’ve missed you so much.” Richie kisses his cheek, fluttering his eyelashes over Eddie’s temple. He reaches up and digs through his end table, pulling out a small bottle of lube. “If you want me to stop, tell me, Eddie. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Eddie nods, steadying his breathing as he watches Richie lube up his left hand. He pushes his glasses up his nose with his wrist before gently pressing his fingers to Eddie’s hole. “Fuck, Rich.” Eddie breathes out, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against Richie’s pillows. 

It feels amazing, being stretched out by Richie, his long fingers buried deep inside of him. Richie strokes his cock all the while, carefully working Eddie open, twisting his fingers up into his prostate, sending jolts of pleasure up Eddie’s spine, making his hair stand on end and his nipples hard. Richie works slowly, adding one finger at a time, to open Eddie up, occasionally bending over to kiss his stomach or lick a line straight up his sternum. 

“I’m ready, Richie.” Eddie gasps out as Richie hits his prostate again. He needs Richie inside of him, he’d been pushing back his orgasm for so long. In reality, he’d almost cum the second Richie touched his hole for the first time. 

“Let me get a condom, Eddie.” Richie sets the bottle of lube on his nightstand, opening the drawer up again. 

“No, Richie, please, I don’t care.” Eddie shakes his head. 

Richie frowns, sitting back on his knees. “Are you sure, Eds?”

Eddie nods, breathing heavily. “Richie, I need you inside of me right now, I don’t care about a condom.”

Richie laughs at that, but it’s more of a huff than anything. He lines himself up with Eddie’s entrance, keeping his other hand on Eddie’s shoulder as he does so. “If I hurt you, Eddie, say something.”

“I will,” Eddie nods again, grabbing Richie’s hips and pulling him forward. “Just go.”

Eddie realizes he probably made a mistake pulling Richie in all at once like that, because a sharp pain shoots up his spine and into his shoulder blades, forcing him to slam his eyes shut. 

“Goddamn, Eddie.” Richie manages, voice sounding choked. 

He still isn’t moving, gripping Eddie’s shoulder tightly with his hand. “I need a second, Richie.”

“I can pull out—“

“No,” Eddie shakes his head, trying to steady his breathing. “I’m ok,” He says after a second. 

“Are you sure?”

“Move, Richie.”

“Eddie—“

“Move, Richie.” Eddie repeats, opening his eyes and nodding at him. “I’m ok.”

Richie wraps his arms around Eddie, sliding them further up the bed so Eddie can rest on the pillows. He pulls almost completely out, sliding slowly back in. Richie continues to build up a pace, fucking into him faster and faster as he moves along, hitting Eddie’s prostate with almost every thrust. 

It’s almost too much. He’s stretched tight around Richie, his cock bouncing against his stomach as Richie strokes his inner walls. It’s incredible, heat building up in the pit of his stomach and spreading out to his limbs. Even his eyes feel like they’re turned on, pricking with tears and he pants out Richie’s name. 

Richie begins stroking Eddie’s cock quickly, reaching up with his other hand to wrap around Eddie’s throat. He squeezes gently, briefly cutting off Eddie’s airway, before releasing him. “Fuck, do that again.” Eddie says, throat rough with arousal. Richie does, choking Eddie for a little longer this time, letting go after about 10 seconds. “Jesus, Richie.” Eddie gasps out. His brain is going into overdrive, he’s so turned on he can barely think. Richie is pounding into him roughly, knocking Eddie’s head into the bed frame with each thrust. It hurts, but in a good way. “Slap me,” Eddie blurts out. 

“God, Eddie.” Richie moans at that, pushing his glasses back up. 

“Slap me, Richie.” Eddie repeats. Richie does, cocking his hand back and landing a small slap on Eddie’s cheek. It stings, and it’s exactly what Eddie wanted. “Again.” 

Richie slaps him harder this time, right against the cheek bone, moaning loudly when his hand touches Eddie’s skin. “Fuck, Eddie, I’m gonna cum.”

Eddie nods, barely able to choke out, “Me too,” Before he does, cumming up in spurts between the two of them as Richie pulls out, splattering the backs of Eddie’s thighs with his orgasm. 

“Oh my god, Eds.” Richie pants, stroking himself through the aftershocks of his orgasm. He drags the tip of his cock through the mess he’d made on Eddie’s legs. 

“I need a towel,” Eddie comments after a minute. 

“Yeah,” Richie laughs. “Me too, hang on.”

Richie leaves and returns after a minute with a towel, sitting on the edge of his bed to wipe off Eddie’s chest and thighs. 

“Richie, I’m sorry,” His mind is racing with thoughts of Myra. He’d just cheated on his wife. With a man. He’d just slept with a man. He was still here, laying in Richie’s bed with his own cum and Richie’s cum making him sticky. “I have—“

“No,” Richie is frowning, shaking his head. He throws the towel onto the floor. “Don’t you dare, Eddie. Don’t you dare leave me like this.”

“Richie I’m sorry, I’m not—“

“Yes, you are.” Richie finishes for him. Eddie isn’t sure what statement Richie is cutting off. _I’m not staying_ or _I’m not gay._ “Stay, Eddie, please.” Richie’s voice is soft. When Eddie looks up, Richie is crying, tears silently running down his cheeks. “Please,” He meets Eddie’s eyes, glasses fogged up from their sex and from his tears. 

Eddie nods. “I’ll stay, Richie.” He pulls Richie’s head onto his chest. “I’ll stay,”

*** 

Eddie leaves well after midnight, having showered and redressed himself. Before he leaves, Richie slips a spare key to the apartment in his hand, kissing Eddie’s cheek and telling him he can come back whenever he wants. So he tells Richie that he’ll return, even though he knows he shouldn’t. He can’t help it. 

Myra is, thankfully, asleep when he gets home, snoring softly with her face buried in her pillow. Eddie climbs into bed with her, laying on his back and staring up at the ceiling. 

He runs his hand up his bare torso, touching all of the places Richie had touched just a few hours before. His cock, now flaccid, his bare chest, his shoulder. He wraps his hand around his own throat, closing his eyes and cutting off his breathing. His cock stiffens at the thought of Richie choking him, Richie slapping his face, Richie fucking him into the headboard. He slips out of bed and retreats to the bathroom, cumming on his hands with thoughts of Richie racing through his head. 

*** 

He isn’t able to stop. He returns to Richie’s at least twice a week, stopping there sometimes before work and sometimes after, telling Myra he has to go in early or stay late. He lets Richie fuck him, bent over the arm of the couch, on the counter, or in the shower. 

Richie pulls his hair and gives him love bites that he has to hide. When he can’t make it to Richie’s, he listens to his radio show. He listens to Richie joke with his guest and laugh at his own jokes, and sometimes he locks himself in the bathroom and touches himself afterwards, moaning Richie’s name into his towel as he cums. 

*** 

One morning, at breakfast with Myra, she casually brings up one of their neighbors, a man around their age named Harry Meyer. “I think he’s a queer,” Myra says, pouring orange juice for Eddie. 

He clears his throat and adjusts his tie. “What makes you say that?”

Myra scowls. “My brother thinks he saw him walking out one night with a man.”

“Maybe they were just friends,” Eddie tries. “Men can be friends, Myra.”

She just shakes her head. “I just don’t know, Eddie. I get a weird feeling from that man.” She shrugs. “My brother said he’d look further into it.”

“Further into it,” Eddie echoes, knowing exactly what she meant. Myra’s brother, Frank, often got together with his cousins and, as he put it, “Pounds the faggot right out of those guys.” 

Eddie decides then, he needs to break it off with Richie.

*** 

“I’m putting both of us in danger,” Eddie says quietly, folding his hands in his lap. He’d walked over to Richie’s house after breakfast, and was now sitting at his dining room table. 

Richie scowls. “I’m not scared of Myra’s brother. You shouldn’t be either.”

“Frank is a lot bigger than me,”

“I can protect you from him.”

Eddie shakes his head. “It isn’t just him. It’s his cousins and his friends. They beat some guy so badly that he can’t walk anymore, Richie. One of his friends has been to prison.”

Richie sits back in his chair. “We’ll leave, then.”

“Leave?”

“Yes, you and me.” Richie blinks at him. “We’ll go somewhere safe, just the two of us. We can be happy together, Eddie.”

“Richie, I—“ Eddie shakes his head. “I can’t leave my wife.”

“Why not? You don’t love her.”

“That’s none of your business.” Eddie snaps. 

Richie scoffs at him. “I love you, Eddie.” He says, laying his hand on top of Eddie’s. 

Richie often told Eddie he loved him. He told Eddie that he’d loved him since they were kids, since the day they’d met on the playground at school. He’d never stopped loving him, even after Eddie left him. Eddie had never said it back. 

“I can’t do this anymore, Richie.” Eddie shakes his head. “I’m not— I’m not like you. I’m happy with my life.”

“You’re scared,” Richie says. 

“No,”

“Yes,” Richie stands up. “You’re scared to admit to yourself that you’re gay.” He walks out into his living room, shoulders tight with anger. 

“No,” Eddie shakes his head, following close behind him.

“All those years ago was the only time that you were being honest with yourself. It just took more than a few drinks to get you there.” 

Eddie blanches at that. He’s angry, his blood rushing in his ears. “You—you—you.” Eddie shakes his head, unable to form a coherent thought. “You got me drunk! And you manipulated me!”

“Is that what you think happened?” Richie looks heartbroken. 

“Yes!” Eddie snaps. “You were just waiting! Waiting for—“

“For what?” Richie demands. “For alcohol to be legalized again? You think I waited 13 years just so I could have my way with you?”

“Yes!” Eddie says again. “I was normal, Richie! I could have had a normal life with a wife and a family! But you! You ruined me!”

“You have a wife!” Richie spits. “You have a wife and a house and you can start a family any time you want to, Eddie, but you don’t, and you want to know why?” It’s a rhetorical question. “Because it wouldn’t make you happy.” 

“You don’t know me at all, Richie.” Eddie feels his eyes brim with tears. 

“I’m the only person who does know you,” Richie retorts. He brings a hand up to wipe his face. “I know you better than anyone, Eddie. I know that you aren’t happy and you won’t be, not as long as you keep living like this.”

“Shut up,”

“And you can pretend all you want—“

“Shut up, Richie.”

“—that you’re happy and that you love your job and that you love Myra and that you don’t love me—“

“SHUT. UP.” Eddie is getting angry, his head feels like it’s going to explode. 

“—but that’s nothing but a lie. A big, bald faced lie that you tell yourself so you can push who you really are away and get through your piss poor life.” Eddie shoves Richie, hard. Richie stumbles backwards and falls, landing flat on his ass on his living room floor. “What are you gonna do, Eddie? Hit me?” Richie’s scowling from his place on the floor. “Are you gonna beat the faggot up? Maybe it’ll make you feel better.” He shrugs. “Go ahead, hit me.”

Eddie shakes his head, slamming his fist into the wall next to Richie’s front door. “I can’t be with you, Richie.” Eddie can’t help the tears that stream down his cheeks. “You’re sick and I’m not like that. I have a wife and a job and I’m happy. I’m not the person you think I am.” He blinks hard, trying to clear the tears from his eyes. “I don’t know why I ever came back here,”

Richie pushes himself to his feet, brushing his shirt off. “Yeah,” He turns away, walking into his kitchen. “You do.”

*** 

Eddie can’t breathe when he steps out of Richie’s apartment and onto the street. The air hurts his lungs and his face, freezing the tears he sheds as he walks home. 

Myra is there when he walks in, ironing clothes in the kitchen, and Eddie grabs her and kisses her, pushing her up against the counter, knocking the ironing board to the floor. For the first time in nearly a year he takes her upstairs and fucks her, but it isn’t what he wants. She doesn’t smell like Richie and she doesn’t taste like Richie and she doesn’t sound like Richie. When he’s inside of her all he can think is _richierichierichierichie_ , and when he finishes he cries, locking himself in the bathroom and sitting on the edge of the tub, sobs raking through his body as he thinks of Richie. He showers, washing himself all over, trying to get Myra off of him, but it’s useless. She’s in his blood. He can hear the sounds she made, he can feel the way she touched him, her nails digging into his skin. 

When he’s done with his shower he vomits into the toilet and brushes his teeth, trying to get Myra’s taste out of his mouth, but he can’t. So instead he sits on the floor of his bathroom and cries, tears running down his cheeks and his neck, over his chest and onto his stomach. He pleasures himself to the thought of Richie while he cries. Richie’s hands, big and strong, holding his face, around his throat, around his cock, inside of him. Richie’s lips on his eyelids, his hair, his mouth, his earlobes. Richie’s tongue in his mouth, on his skin, everywhere. When he finishes he cries harder, unable to get Richie’s smile, his laugh, out of his head. 

*** 

Eddie returns to Richie’s place the following morning, ready to apologize and beg Richie to take him back. He walks there briskly, trying to get out of the cold winter air.

When Richie doesn’t answer his door, Eddie uses his key to let himself in. But Richie isn’t there. Eddie checks his bedroom and his bathroom, his kitchen, his study, but Richie is nowhere to be found. 

That night, when Eddie tunes into Richie’s radio show, he isn’t there either. The voice of a man he doesn’t recognize informs him that Richie was under the weather, and would be gone for the next few shows, at least. It makes Eddie’s heart sink into his stomach, but there isn’t anything he can do. Richie left no note, no address, no number. As far as Eddie knows, Richie might’ve hopped on a plane to China and decided to never come back. 

*** 

Weeks pass by without Richie coming back. Eddie checks his apartment twice every day, on his way to work and again on the way back, but nothing has changed. Eddie clears out the spoiled food from Richie’s fridge one day, wanting the place to be clear and ready from him when he comes back. 

He washes and irons all of Richie’s clothes, scrubs his bathroom top to bottom, makes his bed every time he sleeps there, lying to Myra and telling her he’d been stuck at work. 

He touches himself and buries his face in Richie’s clothes, inhaling the scent of him deep into his lungs. He wears Richie’s clothes while he’s there, too. Richie’s long pant legs and shirt sleeves hang over Eddie’s feet and hands, encompassing him. He dresses himself in Richie’s boxers and sleeps in them, even when he’s at home, telling Myra offhandedly that he’d bought himself some new underpants while she was at home one day. She accepts this answer, even though she doesn’t really look like she believes him. 

She tries to seduce him a few more times, sliding her hands down his shirt or in his pants when he returns home from work, or climbing on top of him in bed, but he always tells her he doesn’t feel well. He has a headache or he’s too stressed out about work. He apologizes and she goes to sleep, back turned to him every night. 

*** 

A month after Richie has been gone, Myra sets something down in front of Eddie at the breakfast table while he reads the paper. “What’s this?” He asks, looking down at the table. 

“Test results from the doctor,” Myra sits next to him and crosses her legs. 

“What do they mean?” Eddie looks over the paper she’d placed in front of him. 

“I’m pregnant, Eddie.” Myra is smiling, resting her hand on her stomach. “Isn’t that just wonderful?”

“Wonderful,” Eddie echoes, eyes locked on the table in front of him. His mind drifts away to Richie, wherever he is. “Just wonderful.” He says again. 

*** 

Two weeks after Eddie gets the news that Myra is pregnant, he stops by Richie’s place in the morning on his way to work, nearly jumping out of his skin when he sees Richie step out of a cab at the curb, cigarette in hand. “Richie!” Eddie calls, quickly making his way over to him. 

“Hey, Eds.” Richie leans around and hands some bills to the cab driver. “Long time.” He comments, taking a drag off of his cigarette. 

“Richie, I wanted to apologize.” Eddie starts, following Richie as he walks up the front step of his apartment building.

“Oh?” Richie unlocks his front door. 

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you, Richie. I’m sorry I snapped.” Eddie steps into the apartment and closes the door behind himself. 

Richie shrugs out of his jacket and tosses it onto the couch, collapsing into his armchair. “I get it, Eds.” Richie shrugs. “You made yourself pretty clear.”

“No, Richie.” Eddie kneels on the ground next to Richie’s chair. “You were right. You know me better than anyone.”

“What about your wife and your house, Eddie? Your perfect family.”

“I don’t want any of that, Richie, I want you. Please, Richie, please take me back.”

“You called me sick,”

“I’m so sorry,” Eddie takes Richie’s hand in his. “I was just scared, Richie. Scared of what you are.” He pauses. “What I am.”

Richie blinks a few times, breathing evenly. “I’ve met someone, Eddie.” He says after a minute. 

“No,” Eddie can’t think of anything else to say. 

“His name is Stanley Uris—“

“No,”

“—I met him a couple of weeks ago.” Richie still hasn’t taken his hand out of Eddie’s. “In Chicago.”

“You went to Chicago.” Eddie says. It isn’t really a question, he’s just repeating what Richie had said. 

“Yes,” Richie nods. “I went to Chicago and I met Stan Uris. He’s not afraid of who he is.”

“Myra is pregnant,” Eddie says softly. 

“Good for you guys, Eddie.” Richie sounds so earnest. “That’s really swell, Eds. Really.”

“Richie, please.” Eddie takes a shaky breath. “I—I can’t do this. I can’t hear this from you.”

“You pushed me away, Eddie.”

“Richie,” Eddie moves around in front of Richie, kneeling in front of him. “I love you, Richie, I do. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to admit it. Please, you have to take me back.”

“Eddie—“

“I’ll leave Myra. I’ll do it right now, if that’s what you want.”

“Eddie—“

“I can’t go back there.”

“Eddie,” Richie leans forward and places his hands on Eddie’s shoulders. “Your wife is pregnant. You can’t just leave her. This is what you wanted. A family.”

“I want a family with _you_.” Eddie says. “I want to be your husband and spend everyday with you, Richie.”

“Eddie, we can’t.” Richie shakes his head. “I’m sorry.” He leans down and presses a soft kiss to Eddie’s cheek. “I don’t want to be your dirty little secret anymore. I can’t be.” He stands, turning his back to Eddie and walking into the kitchen. 

Eddie feels like he’s turning to dust, the very essence of his being crumbling away. He can feel Richie’s lips on his cheek still, the weight of Richie’s love on his heart. It can’t be over, no, he won’t let it. He won’t let himself ruin the only good thing he has left. Eddie gets up and follows Richie into the kitchen. Richie is pouring himself a glass of water at the sink, back turned to Eddie, shoulders slumped under his shirt. 

Eddie turns him around to kiss him, hard, pushing his tongue into Richie’s mouth and grabbing fistfuls of his dark, curly hair. 

Richie moans softly, glass dropping from his hands and shattering on the tile floor, bringing his now free hands up to rest on Eddie’s hips. “I love you,” Eddie says into Richie’s mouth. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” He repeats, moving to unbutton Richie’s shirt. 

“Fuck, Eddie.” Richie groans, rock hard in his pants, grinding up against Eddie’s hip. 

“Tell me you love me,” Eddie wraps his hand around Richie, pumping him quickly inside of his trousers. 

“Eds, Jesus.” Richie hangs his head back, leaning heavily against his counter. 

“Tell me you love me, Richie, please.” Eddie murmurs, kissing over Richie’s throat. “You don’t love Stan Umis—“

“Uris,” Richie corrects, hands gripping the edge of the counter so tightly his knuckles turn white. 

“Uris,” Eddie says, sucking a mark into Richie’s collarbone. “You don’t love him, you love me. Tell me you love me, Richie.”

“I love you, fuck, Eddie. I’ve loved you since we were kids.” Richie is getting close, Eddie can tell. He’s gasping with every breath, eyes shut tight. 

Eddie drops to his knees, pulling Richie’s pants down with him as he goes. “Cum on my face,” He says, licking over the head of Richie’s cock. 

“Eddie, god.” Richie moans loudly, fisting his hands in Eddie’s hair. 

Eddie continues jerking him, knees cramping from digging into the hard tiles of Richie’s kitchen floor. Richie gasps when his orgasm hits, splattering Eddie’s face with streaks of cum. Eddie strokes him through it, keeping the heel of his other hand pressed firmly down on his own dick in his pants. 

“Let me get you a towel, Eds.” Richie says softly, batting Eddie’s hand away from him. He reaches over and grabs his chicken-print dish towel from the oven handle and crouches down, wiping over Eddie’s face with the cloth. “There you are,” Richie smiles at him, kissing his nose. It’s so oddly sweet that Eddie starts to cry. He takes a deep gulping breath and buries his face in his hands, sobbing. “Hey, Eds.” Richie sets the towel on the floor and pulls Eddie into a hug. “Eds, don’t cry.”

“I’m sorry,” Eddie sobs into Richie’s shoulder. “I just—. I’ve ruined everything, Richie.”

“What do you mean?” Richie rubs Eddie’s arm. 

“Myra is pregnant. I can’t leave her now. I have to stay with her, I have to be a father to my child. I’m so sorry, Richie.” Eddie takes another gasping breath. “I was so mad the day you left. When I went home I had sex with her, for the first time in a year, and look what happened.” 

“Eddie, she’s your wife.” Richie pulls Eddie properly onto his lap. “You have it all, Eds. The wife, the house, the job. Now you’ve got a kid on the way. You’re living the American dream, buddy.”

“It’s not my dream,” Eddie shakes his head. “Not unless you’re in it.”

  
  


*** 

The rest of their visit is melancholy, most of the time taken up by Eddie sobbing in Richie’s lap. 

When Eddie gets up to leave, Richie kisses him goodbye and assures him that he’ll call Stanley Uris and break it off with him. 

Eddie walks home slowly, not ready to face Myra. He needs to do something about his marriage, he just isn't sure what. He can’t just leave her, she’s pregnant with his child. He can’t tell her about Richie, she might tell someone else and then they’d both be in danger. He’s still weighing his options when he walks through the front door. 

Myra is sitting on the couch, a scotch in one hand and a cigarette in the other. “Should you be doing that?” He frowns at her. 

“I have to tell you something, Eddie.” She won’t look at him. 

“Myra, I really don’t think you’re supposed to drink—or smoke, really, when you’re preg—“

“I’m leaving you,” She interrupts him. 

Eddie can’t speak for a moment. “What?”

“I’m leaving you,” Myra repeats. She stands up from the couch and retreats into their bedroom. 

“Myra, you can’t— what are you talking about?” Eddie follows quickly behind her, watching as she drops a suitcase on the bed and begins throwing clothes into it. “What about the baby?”

“It isn’t yours,” Myra looks up at him. She’s crying. 

Eddie takes a step back. “What?”

“I’ve been seeing someone else,” She goes to the closet pulls her clothes down off of the hangers. “I’ve been trying to think of a way to tell you, Eddie, but I was too nervous. Then you came home that day and made love to me, and I.” She frowns, shaking her head. “I thought things had changed. But they hadn’t.”

“You’re leaving me,” Eddie says slowly. 

“I’m so sorry, Eddie.” Myra steps up and kisses him on the cheek. “I know this must be hard for you to hear.”

“You’re leaving me,” Eddie repeats, letting the words roll off his tongue. “You’re leaving me for another man, who’s child you’re having. And you’re leaving me.” He watches as Myra throws a pair of shoes into her bag. “Right now,”

“Eddie, I know you’re upset, but this is for the best.” She zips her bag, standing on her toes to kiss him. “You’ll see,” She brushes past him and out the front door, letting it slam shut behind her. 

*** 

“She just left?” Richie lays his hand on Eddie’s knee. “Just like that?”

Eddie nods slowly, sipping his drink. He’d called Richie immediately after Myra had left. He’d been drinking Manhattans in his armchair when Richie arrived. “Packed her things and walked right out the front door.” Eddie gestured to the door with his free hand, taking another sip of his drink. 

“What about your baby?” 

Eddie laughs humorlessly. “It isn’t even mine!” He finishes off the last of his drink, tossing the empty glass down onto the carpeted floor. “She was sleeping with someone else!”

Richie pauses for a moment, hand still resting on Eddie leg. “So are you,”

“Who’s side are you on?” Eddie demands, scowling. 

“Yours, Eddie, of course.” Richie leans up and kisses Eddie’s cheek. “I’m sorry you’re upset about this.”

“I don’t know what I am,” Eddie shakes his head and looks over to Richie. “Come here,” He opens his arms, pulling Richie onto his lap. 

“I love you,” Richie brushes his hand through Eddie’s hair. “If that helps.”

“How did Stanley Boris—“

“Uris,” Richie corrects. 

“—take the news?”

Richie shrugs. “Alright, I suppose. Not much he can do from the other side of the country.”

“Were you too terribly attached to him?” Eddie turns to look at Richie. 

“No,” Richie shakes his head, sliding his hand into Eddie’s shirt. “I liked him ok, but there’s only one man for me.” Richie bends down and begins pressing kisses along Eddie’s jawline. 

“Make me feel better,” Eddie leans into Richie’s touch. 

“That, I can do.” Richie smiles at him, kissing Eddie’s neck. 

“Not even my baby,” Eddie mumbles as Richie moves down his body, unzipping his pants and pulling his cock out. “How long do you think she was sleeping with someone else?”

Richie frowns, pumping Eddie’s dick in his hand. “Do you really want to talk about that right now?” 

“My wife just left me,”

“I can stop,” Richie offers. 

“No, keep going.” Richie doesn’t move, still just kneeling in front of him. “I’m ok, Rich, I promise. Keep going.”

Richie sighs through his nose, not looking too convinced, but taking Eddie’s cock in his mouth regardless. He swallows Eddie down, sliding him into his throat and coming back up. He takes Eddie fully in his mouth, pressing his nose down into Eddie’s pubic hair. He moans around him, sending vibrations up Eddie spine. 

Eddie tangles his hand in Richie’s hair and pulls him off. “What’s wrong?” Richie knits his eyebrows. 

“Come to bed with me,” Eddie stands. “Come fuck me in my bed tonight.”

Richie clearly doesn’t need to be asked twice. He gets up and follows Eddie into his bedroom without another word, kneeling between his thighs as Eddie perches on the side of the bed. Eddie holds Richie's head in his hands and bucks up into him, fucking his mouth roughly. He knows Richie will stop him if it gets to be too much, so he goes hard and fast because it’s what he wants, closing his eyes and listening to Richie gag and choke around him. Richie lays his hands on Eddie’s thighs and squeezes softly, a fond gesture to just remind Eddie that he’s there, more than just a mouth.

When Eddie releases Richie’s head, he pulls back, shoving his glasses back into place and coughing into his hand. “Sorry,” Eddie says, breathless. 

Richie shakes his head, waving Eddie off. “I’m fine,” He says roughly, cheeks flushed bright pink. 

Richie continues to cough for a minute, occasionally clearing his throat, still kneeling on the floor. He looks so fucking sexy, Eddie thinks. With his hair roughed up from where Eddie had been holding him, his lips dark red and spit slicked, his chest heaving with his small coughs. Eddie strokes himself slowly, admiring Richie while he does so. “I love you,” Eddie tells him. 

“I love you too, Eds.” Richie smiles, resting his palm flat against his own chest. “I think you actually may have actually fucked my lungs, though.”

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says again. 

Richie shakes his head, sitting up on his knees, grabbing Eddie’s hips. “Don’t be,” He leans forward and catches Eddie’s mouth in a rough kiss, biting his lower lip and sucking Eddie’s tongue into his mouth. He begins sucking marks onto Eddie’s jaw hinge, stroking his dick with one hand and bringing up his other hand to wrap around Eddie’s throat. 

Eddie moans softly as Richie chokes him, air catching in his throat in an attempt to leave his lungs. He inadvertently bucks up into Richie’s hand, the tip of his cock bumping into Richie’s rib cage. “Be good, Eds.” Richie murmurs against his collarbone. 

Richie kisses down Eddie’s chest, occasionally squeezing his hand tighter around his throat, eventually dipping his head back down to Eddie’s cock, swallowing him down and lightly dragging his teeth over Eddie’s erection. “Fuck, Richie!” Eddie curses out, once again jerking his hips up. 

“I said behave, Eddie.” Richie says lowly, biting at Eddie’s lower stomach. 

“Slap me,” Eddie locks eyes with Richie, breathing heavily. “Slap me, please.”

Richie nods, landing a sharp slap to Eddie’s cheek, using his other hand to pull Eddie’s head back by his hair. 

Richie runs his tongue over Eddie’s chest and his shoulders, roughly yanking on his hair and taking time to slap him in between. 

Eddie falls apart underneath his touch, moaning and babbling Richie’s name over and over, blushing all the way up to the tips of his ears. He feels hot all over, his tummy flipping around and his nerve endings exploding wherever Richie’s hands and lips make contact with his skin. “Richie, I need you inside of me, _now_.” He groans out. 

“You need to have patience, Eddie-O.” Richie’s lips drag over his throat as he speaks, and Eddie can fucking _hear_ his stupid smirk. 

“Rich, come on.” Eddie rolls his hips up into Richie’s touch. “Please, Rich, please. Just fuck me.”

Richie pulls back and he’s smiling. He presses a quick kiss to Eddie’s mouth, then another. “As you wish,” He kisses Eddie again before leaning over to root through the nightstand. “You don’t have any lube, Eds?” He frowns. 

Eddie shakes his head. “No, I’ve never needed it here before.” His chest feels tight, he knows it’s because he’s been breathing too heavily for too long. 

“I suppose we don’t really _need_ it,” Richie slides the nightstand drawer closed and places his hand flat on Eddie’s chest, pushing him back until he’s laying on the bed. He gently pushes Eddie’s knees apart with his hands, kissing each of his thighs. “I love you,” 

“I love you too,” Eddie leans up on his elbows to watch as Richie dips down and licks over him, holding Eddie’s gaze behind the thick lenses of his glasses the whole time. “Fuck,” Eddie moans, dropping his head back against the mattress. 

Richie presses his tongue into Eddie, bringing his hands up to gently scratch down Eddie’s chest and stomach. Eddie pulls, hard, on Richie’s hair as he continues rimming him, moaning and cursing as Richie slides a finger into him. 

Richie pulls back for a second, keeping his hand inside of Eddie, while using his free hand to push his glasses back up and move his hair off of his forehead. “You look so beautiful, Eds.” Richie says quietly, running his fingertips down the scratch marks on Eddie’s rib cage. Eddie whines as Richie pulls his hand out, quickly spit-slicking another finger. “Hang on,” He says, smiling. 

“Richie, please.” Eddie tips his chin up, closing his eyes as Richie slides his hand back into him, shifting his fingers around to prod at Eddie’s prostate. 

“What do you want, Eds?” Richie asks. 

“Fuck, Rich, I want you to fuck me, now.” Eddie pants. 

“What else?” Richie slips another finger in, rolling his wrist around. 

“Slap me,” 

“Yeah?” Richie slaps Eddie’s hand away from his cock. “Be good.” He says again. 

“I want you to choke me, Richie, please.” Eddie knows he won’t last much longer, not with all of the dirty talk. 

“I never knew you were such a slut,” Richie remarks. 

Eddie moans loudly at that, really more of a shout than a moan. 

“You like being a slut,” Richie observes, and Eddie can hear him smiling again. 

“Fuck, Richie.” Eddie tries again to stroke himself, his cock throbbing against his stomach, but Richie swats his hand away again. 

“Say you’re a slut,” Richie tries. 

Eddie nods quickly. “I am, I’m a slut, please fuck me, Richie, please.”

“Say it again,”

“I’m a slut,” Eddie fists his hands into the comforter, arching his back off the bed. 

“Again,”

“God, Richie, I’m a slut, please fuck me.”

“Fuck, Eds.” Richie groans, clearly not able to keep himself going much longer. He spits into his hand and quickly lubes himself and Eddie up. He pulls Eddie down further, so he’s almost hanging off the bed, throwing Eddie’s legs over his shoulders as he slides in. 

“Oh my god, Richie.” Eddie moans out, so relieved to finally have Richie inside of him, stretching him out. 

“Say you’re a slut again,” Richie says lowly, almost like a growl. 

“I am,” Eddie nods as Richie wraps his hand around Eddie’s throat again. “I’m such a slut, Richie, harder.”

Richie complies, speeding up his thrusts and tightening his grip on Eddie’s neck. “God, fuck, Eddie, I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Eddie says breathily. “Slap me,” He reaches down and begins to stroke himself, relieved when Richie doesn’t bother to stop him, too busy slapping Eddie across his cheek with one hand, choking him with the other. 

“Jesus, Eddie.” Richie moans, dropping Eddie’s legs down off of his shoulders to and grabbing hold of his hips, pulling him down roughly to meet his thrusts. “Oh fuck, Eds, shit.” He chokes out, stuttering to a stop as he cums deep inside of Eddie. 

Richie pants heavily above him, glasses slipping off the end of his nose and plunking down onto Eddie’s stomach as he finishes, shooting cum onto the lenses of Richie’s glasses. 

“Fuck,” Eddie groans, dropping his head back onto the mattress. 

“Oh man,” Richie mumbles quietly. “My glasses.” The whole situation is so ridiculous that Eddie begins to laugh, his whole body shaking. “Don’t laugh, Eddie.” Richie is smiling. “You made a fucking mess on my glasses.”

“I know!” Eddie laughs louder, pushing Richie off of him. “I can’t breathe, Rich, Jesus fucking Christ, that couldn’t have been any more perfect.”

“Hardly perfect!” Richie scoffs, collapsing on the bed next to Eddie. “Myra might not be having your baby, but my glasses are.” Richie freezes, clearly worried he’d upset Eddie with his mention of Myra and her affair, but it only makes Eddie laugh harder. 

“Oh my god!” Eddie rolls over and lays his head on Richie’s chest, laughing tearfully. “I’m sorry I’m such a mess right now, Richie.” He sighs. 

“You think you’re a mess?” Richie brings his hand up to run through Eddie’s hair. “Think of poor Stan Pluris—“

“Uris,” Eddie corrects, laughing again. 

“The one and only Richie Tozier marches into his life and then immediately back out again.” Richie shakes his head, clicking his tongue. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he never recovers.”

Eddie sighs again, burrowing deeper into Richie’s chest. “Thank you for being here for me, Richie.” He mumbles softly. 

“Eddie Spaghetti,” Richie takes Eddie’s chin in his hand, tipping his face up so they’re looking at each other. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else in the world.”

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me anywhere! My handle for everything is @rauqthetommo! Feel free to ask me questions at all on my tumblr!


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